


Sunset Boulevard

by Jenksel



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: AU, Angst and Feels, Eve & Jenkins bonding, Gen, Light Angst, Male-Female Friendship, Post-Season/Series 04, married Cassandra/Jenkins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 01:17:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13800321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenksel/pseuds/Jenksel
Summary: Eve is concerned for Jenkins after the trauma he experienced in the other timeline, so she invites him to spend some quality time with her.





	Sunset Boulevard

_Meet me in the theater tonight at 8:00 PM._

That’s all the unsigned note said.  Jenkins found the precisely printed words on a scrap piece of envelope and taped to his desk chair where he was sure to see it.  When he asked the Librarians about it, none of them owned up to it, though the Caretaker noticed that Cassandra squirmed a bit as she answered his question and refused to meet his gaze.  She may not have written it herself, but she knew who did.  Flynn Carsen’s handwriting was illegible.  That left only one person.

“Colonel Baird,” he greeted the tall blonde warily as he entered the Library’s theater room at the appointed hour.  “Or is it ‘Colonel Carsen’ now?”  Eve smiled lopsidedly at the older man as she got up from the sofa.

“You know, Flynn and I have never really talked about that,” she responded offhandedly.  “What have _you_ two decided on:  Cassandra Cillian or Cassandra Jenkins?  Or will it be something hyphenated?”  Jenkins knitted his brows together in puzzlement.

“You know, Cassandra and I have never really talked about that.”  There was an amused twinkle in his brown eyes and he visibly relaxed a little bit.  “As you can see, Colonel, I found your note.  May I ask what all of this cloak and dagger nonsense is about?”

“R and R,” Baird said briskly.  “Rest and relaxation, Jenkins.  You need some.”  The Caretaker raised his eyebrows in askance.

“Indeed?” he replied, a note of his old snarkiness in his voice.  “And you made this determination based on…?”

“The fact that you have been running yourself ragged around here ever since we all regained our memories of the other timeline.  As if you were trying to distract yourself from something unpleasant?” she answered him gently.  Caught off-guard, Jenkins drew himself up to his full height and squared his broad shoulders, unconsciously trying to appear larger and more intimidating.  It was a tell of his that the Guardian had noticed in the immortal early on in their relationship, especially whenever anyone brought up a topic that he didn’t want to talk about.

“I have not been ‘running myself ragged’, as you so colorfully put it, Colonel,” Jenkins denied firmly.  “It’s simply that there is a great deal of work to be done in the Library on a daily basis — work that none of you neither knows about nor appreciates.”  He fussed with the cuffs of his suit coat, another indication that he was uncomfortable.

“In fact, I have a great deal of work right now that needs tending to, so if you’ll please excuse me, Colonel…”  He turned and quickly headed toward the door.

“Cassandra’s worried about you, Jenkins,” she blurted out.  The large man stopped in his tracks, but didn’t turn.  “I’m worried about you, too,” she added plainly, pressing her advantage.

Jenkins stood still for a moment, and Eve could tell he was trying to make a decision.  Finally, his shoulders slumped and he turned around to face Eve again, a look of concern on his face.

“Neither you nor Cassandra have anything to be worried about,” he said, trying to reassure her, but his voice was hollow.  Eve hurried over to him and laid her hand on his arm.

“Jenkins, Cassandra told me about the nightmares you two have been having.”  The older man, his eyes turning hard as glass, opened his mouth to say something, but Baird held up one hand and cut him off.

“She didn’t give me any details, if that’s what you’re worried about.  She suspects that you’re trying to protect her from something.  She’s worried that you’re suffering from PTSD—you know, post-traumatic stress?  She says you won’t talk to her about it, so she asked _me_ to talk to you, that’s all.  She thought that if you don’t feel comfortable talking to her about it, maybe you would feel more comfortable talking to another soldier.  With someone who’s had some first-hand experience dealing with PTSD.”  Baird gave the tall man’s arm a squeeze.

“She’s just worried about you.  She loves you, Jenkins, _so much_.”  The immortal took a deep breath and looked up into the Guardian’s eyes.  He laid his on top of hers and smiled weakly.

“I appreciate your concern, Colonel,” he said sincerely.  “You’re a good friend to Cassandra.  I certainly didn’t mean to cause her any additional anxiety, I simply didn’t want to add my burdens to her own.”  He paused and dropped his gaze again.

“But that’s what spouses do, Jenkins.  They help carry each other’s burdens,” Eve said.  The Caretaker frowned slightly and drew a deep breath.

“I’m just not ready to talk about what happened to me...over there.  I’ll straighten things out with Cassandra, though.  I’ll talk to her and reassure her.”  He lightly patted the Guardian’s hand in dismissal before releasing it and turned again to leave the theater.  Baird squared her own shoulders and set her jaw.  _Oh, we’re not nearly done here yet, Skippy!_

“You can still stay for the movie!” Baird called after him, deliberately keeping her tone light.  Jenkins turned around and gave her a quizzical look.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked.  “What movie?”  Eve picked up a dvd disc and held it up as she smirked.

“Why did you think I asked you to come to the theater?  I was going to use a movie as an icebreaker—get you all nice and relaxed, distracted.  Make you feel more comfortable, get you talking.  Sneaky, I know, but let’s face it, Jenkins, you can be a tough nut to crack sometimes.” The immortal chuckled quietly.

“Believe it or not, Colonel Baird, you’re not the first person to say that to me.”  He took a few steps toward the tall woman.  “And what movie were you going to soften me up with, if I may ask?”  Baird handed him the disc.  He gingerly took it from her and read the title stamped on the front of it, and his eyes widened in appreciation.

“ _Sunset Boulevard_!  Not only my favorite genre of film, but also my favorite movie of that genre.  Have you seen it?”

“A couple of times.  I usually prefer the grittier Noir films— _Double Indemnity, Kiss of Death, The Postman Always Rings Twice_.  Stuff like that.”  She reached down and picked up a six-pack of brown bottles.

“I also have some ice-cold root beers—Barq’s, your favorite brand, of course.  _And_ I just made a fresh batch of che-e-e-x mi-i-i-x!” Eve sang.  Jenkins gave the Guardian a courtly bow in surrender.

“Well done, Colonel!” he conceded.  Baird echoed the bow, a sardonic grin on her face.

“It’s a Guardian’s job to know the weaknesses of her charges.”  She plucked the disc from the immortal’s hand and held it tantalizingly in front of her as she began backing up toward the dvd player.

“And how to exploit those weaknesses shamelessly,” finished the Caretaker dourly.  Eve looked him directly in the eye.

“Only when I think they need it.”  Jenkins snorted in response and ambled back to the large sofa.

“ _Sunset Boulevard_ , cold root beer and warm, oven-fresh chex mix; how can I possibly refuse such tempting bait?” he said, dropping his large body onto the sofa and making himself comfortable.  As Eve plopped onto the cushion next to him and placed the bowl of snacks between them, he reached out and laid his large hand companionably on her arm and gave her a knowing look.  “Especially if it’s in the company of a friend, and not a therapist?”  Baird smiled stiffly.  _Wily old fox!_   She turned away from him and hit the ‘play’ button on the remote control.

After all of the requisite FBI and Interpol warnings against video piracy, the large screen eventually lit up with the opening black and white titles of the Noir classic.  The pair settled themselves in and watched for several minutes in silence, broken only by intermittent crunching sounds as handfuls of chex mix were consumed.  As the film progressed, they began to comment briefly on various aspects of the movie—the actors, the scenery, Norma Desmond’s old 1929 Isotta Fraschini.  Jenkins confided to Eve that the Library had once owned one of those, except that the Library’s car had been upholstered in tiger skin rather than leopard.  He had taken the Library’s car for a spin through the English countryside one crisp October afternoon in 1930, and he reported to Eve that it was an experience he would never forget. He intentionally neglected to mention that he also had a pretty woman in the seat next to him, a painter he’d met one day in the National Portrait Gallery; they were driving to her country house so that she could paint a nude portrait of him, among other things.

As the movie ran on, though, Eve noticed that Jenkins became more quiet, more withdrawn, more thoughtful.  She watched him carefully, and saw a look settle over his features that alerted her to trouble.  He looked sad at first, then the sadness gradually gave way to a troubled expression, almost fearful.  She’d had enough experience with soldiers over the years to recognize when one was struggling with bad memories.  This didn’t look like a full-blown PTSD episode to her, but Jenkins was definitely wrestlng with something.  Baird didn’t say anything, but she kept a sharp eye on her companion as they continued watching the movie.

About halfway into the film, she saw the old immortal’s hand slowly move to cover his mouth and his eyes closed tightly as if in pain.  _Go time!_ she thought to herself as she took a deep, silent breath.

Eve quietly paused the dvd, then turned to face Jenkins, at the same time moving the bowl of chex mix to the coffee table.  She then moved closer to the distressed man and lightly laid her hand on his knee.

“Okay, Skippy, talk to me,” she said softly.

Jenkins turned his pale face to her and simply stared for several seconds, debating with himself what to do.  After a few minutes he dropped his hand and his eyes as he made his decision, sighing in resignation.

“Colonel Baird...” he began hesitantly.  He stopped, a frown coming to his face as he struggled to formulate his words.

“I am so _very_ sorry for what I did to you and the others!  In the other timeline,” he said hoarsely with barely-controlled emotion.  Eve didn’t say anything, letting him have the space and time he needed to say whatever he wanted to get outside of himself.  Jenkins swallowed hard before continuing.

“The nightmares that I have—they’re almost always of me reliving that day.  Trapped inside my own body, having to watch myself put all of you through those horrors, listen to my own voice taunt you and torment you.  And I can’t do anything to stop it!  I can’t…control myself, I can’t control my actions, my words.”  He glanced up at the woman next to him, his face wracked with guilt and remorse, tears pooling in his sorrowful brown eyes.

“If I live to be a million years old, Colonel Baird, I swear on all that is holy that I will _never_ forget the sight of you on your knees before me, begging for the lives of the others!” he choked out.  He shut his eyes, tears spilling slowly down his cheeks.  “I beg you to forgive me for that, Colonel!  I wanted _so much_ …  I _tried_ so hard…  But I just couldn’t…”  He labored to find the words to express the misery he felt inside.

“I understand— _intellectually_ —that I’m not at fault, I understand that I was possessed and therefore had no control over my words or my actions.  But in my… _heart_ …” he stumbled over the word, his hand flying to cover his breastbone, his eyes screwing tightly shut again as pain overwhelmed him.  Eve moved even closer to the grief-stricken man and laid her hand on his arm, squeezing it reassuringly.  The immortal regained control of himself and opened his eyes, but didn’t look at her, instead fixing his gaze on the floor between them.

“The things I did to you and the others were despicable enough, but what I did to _Cassandra_ …”  His voice broke off again as he threatened to collapse entirely into tears.  Eve squeezed his arm again.

“Jenkins, there’s no need to ask for forgiveness. And _you_ didn’t do anything to Cass,” she tried to comfort him, but her words only seemed to inflict more pain.  He laughed mirthlessly, the sound more like a harsh bark than anything else.

“I knew that she’d been bullied as a young person,” he began unsteadily.  “I _knew_ that she’d suffered terribly in high school before she finally dropped out; she told me so.  But I _never_ imagined it was as bad as what she relived in the Trial.”  He absently laid his own hand over Baird’s and continued to stare at the floor.  “How could I have let that happen to her?  How could I have let the Library do that to her?”

“You had no control, Jenkins!  You can’t take the blame for what happened there onto yourself.  That was all Nicole’s doing, not yours!” Eve said firmly.  Jenkins finally turned his misery-filled eyes and looked into Eve’s.

“Miss Noone had nothing to do with this, Colonel,” he rasped, shaking his head.  “If _I_ hadn’t left the First Book out where Cassandra could find it—I _know_ how insatiably curious she is!  If I hadn’t been so careless…!”  He snatched his hand away from Eve’s, his face suddenly darkening with anger.

“And Miss Noone had nothing to do with our inability to select a Librarian to tether with you.  I should _never_ have let things go unresolved for so long!  I’m the Caretaker; I was the only person left with the knowledge needed to make the transition go smoothly.  It was MY responsibility to see that the tethering ceremony took place in time.  If I hadn’t let myself become so distracted by—“  He stopped suddenly, a panicked look coming suddenly to his face.  Eve’s sixth sense was alerted instantly.

“If you hadn’t let yourself become so distracted by what?” she prodded gently but insistently.  He glanced at her briefly, nervously, but took a breath and answered her question.

“If I hadn’t let myself become so distracted by my affection for you, for the others.  For Cassandra.”  Baird shook her head in disbelief.

“Jenkins, so help me, God!  If you’re telling me that you regret finally letting people into your life—that you regret letting _Cassandra_ into your life…!”  She glared at him as she let the threat hang unspoken.  The older man immediately began to shake his head vigorously in denial.

“ _No_ , Colonel, it’s not that; I most certainly do _not_ regret letting any of you into my life, and certainly not Cassandra!  I meant what I said in the other timeline as I was dy…”  He cut himself off, unable to say the word.  “I meant what I said then—I may be immortal, but you all have brought me to life, especially Cassandra, and I do not regret that in the least.”  Jenkins had a despondent look on his face.

“What I meant was that I let my feelings for you all interfere with my better judgement.  I kept letting things slide because I was afraid to force you to decide something before you were ready.  The well-being of the world should’ve outweighed the well-being of a handful of people; I allowed my personal feelings to interfere with logic.  It was only because of that weakness on my part, because of my carelessness with the First Book, the Trial came about in the first lace, and it was plain, simple stupidity on my part that allowed it to happen!  I ultimately failed everyone who was counting on me—the Library, Mr. Carsen, you, the others.  I let all of you down.  Miss Noone had no role in that.”

“That’s not true, Jenkins!” Baird shot back fiercely, her eyes icy-blue.  “That’s SO not true and you know it!  Everything that happened is Nicole’s doing, she told me so, she admitted to everything!  And if you’re really looking for someone to ultimately blame for that whole clusterfuck of a timeline (pardon my French), then you need to blame _us_ —me and Flynn!”  She grabbed Jenkins’s large, calloused hand and held onto it tightly as he looked at her blankly.

 _“We_ should’ve listened to _you_ when you told us to leave her locked up in the dungeon.  You _tried_ to warn us, Jenkins!  But we ignored you, we thought you were being too…rigid, too unforgiving.  But you were right about everything, you were right about how manipulative and vengeful she was, you were right about how she was only out to get revenge on the Library and destroy it.  _We_ should’ve listened to _you_ , Jenkins; but we didn’t, and what happened after Flynn let her out of that cell is totally on us.  Not you!”  Eve dropped her gaze and released his hand.

“In fact, Jenkins, if only we had listened to you, you wouldn’t have sacrificed your immortality for Nicole, you would never have been possessed by the ‘evil Library’, you would never have been…”  She stopped momentarily, then forged ahead.

“You never would have been killed.”  She reached her hand out again and clutched his forearm.  “All of that is _our_ fault, Jenkins, _not_ yours.  _We_ failed _you_.  And I am so, SO sorry for that!”  Eve moved as close to the Caretaker as she could and put her arms around him.  She held onto him tightly, laying the side of her head against his, and closed her eyes, now stinging with unshed tears.

“I should have said that to you a long time ago, Jenkins, and I’m sorry that it’s taken so long!” she said huskily.  “Flynn and I love you so much, Jacob and Ezekiel love you, and of course Cassandra loves you!”  Eve held onto him as the words tumbled out of her.

“You’ve always done your best to protect us and keep us safe; you haven’t failed _any_ of us or let us down.  Don’t ever think that!”  The old knight hesitated for a moment, then slipped his long arms around Baird and returned her hug, clinging to her tightly as a ragged lungful of air harshly escaped him.  He hid his face in her neck as he held her, swallowing hard against the huge lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.

“Thank you, Eve,” he finally whispered into her ear, barely audible.  “I…I love you, too.”  Baird felt hot tears drop onto her neck, and suddenly the Guardian found herself with a hard lump clogging her own throat and fighting a losing battle with her tears.  She tightened her arms around the big man briefly, warmly rubbing his back before eventually letting him go.  As they separated, Jenkins pulled his handkerchief from his coat and wordlessly offered it to Eve.  She gave him a small smile as she shook her head, and he then used it to wipe the tears from his own eyes.  As she wiped her eyes with her hands Eve sensed that even though the old Jenkins had finally given voice to a huge burden, there was still something he was holding back.

“Well, that’s one down,” she said cheerfully, blotting the last of the dampness from her face with her shirttail.  The Caretaker regarded her suspiciously as he replaced his handkerchief.

“What else is bothering you tonight, Skip?”  Jenkins looked away, and busied himself by taking several small swigs of his root beer, stalling for time.  He cleared his throat as he set the small brown bottle on the end table next to his side of the sofa, then rubbed his hand nervously over his mouth.  He nodded toward the large television screen in front of them.

“Which of the two characters in this movie do you think I most resemble, Colonel:  Joe Gillis or Max the butler?” he asked Baird.  “Personally, I think I started off as Mr. Gillis, and eventually turned into Max.”  She blinked in confusion at the seeming change of subject.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” she said.  He swept his arm at the screen.

“Joe Gillis or Max.  If the Library is Norma Desmond, which character am I?  The former husband who has turned in a mindless, subservient slave; or the desperate and unsuspecting kept man who suddenly finds himself unable—perhaps even unwilling on some level—to escape the madness of his benefactress?”  Eve tilted her head quizzically, more confused now than ever.

“Jenkins, what are you saying?” she asked.  She wasn’t sure she liked where this analogy was going.  The immortal sighed and looked at her, his tone stern and unforgiving when he spoke.

“I realized something, Colonel, as I was watching this movie,” he said.  “I realized that the Library is rather like Norma Desmond—an eccentric _grande dame_ , reclusive, secretive, living in the past.  So much so that she’s now almost completely detached from the present, from reality.”  He paused for a few moments, staring off into the distance, the stoniness in his features fading into distress.

“I’ve been with the Library for over a thousand years,” he began, his voice distant and quiet.  “When the Library took me in, I was literally a lost soul.  No ambition, no drive, no…purpose in life.  I was simply drifting.  My _entire life_ had been geared toward the finding of the Holy Grail, but once that was achieved, I had no idea what to do next.  No one had ever addressed that with me.”  He turned his gaze to Eve, and she was startled to see so much pain in the old immortal’s eyes.

“Can you imagine that, Colonel?  Groomed for one specific mission from the _very second_ you were conceived!  And then you successfully complete that one single mission while still a very young man; _now_ what?  By then I was immortal; what in God’s name was I supposed to do with the rest of my life?  What was I supposed to do with the infinity of time that I had left?”  Large tears welled and fell from his eyes as he spoke, his voice now frail and trembling.

“I was just beginning to understand what being an immortal truly means when I found the Library, and I’m afraid that I wasn’t accepting it very well.”  He lowered his eyes, then clasped his hands tightly in his lap.  He stared at them as he continued to speak, distraught.

“All of my loved ones had died long before.  Camelot was long gone, forgotten by the entire world at that time.  In the years between Camelot and the Library, I _tried_ to make a difference in the world on my own, I _tried_ to uphold my knightly oath.”  His brow furrowed in anguish and consternation.  “But I seemed only to get people killed.  Innocent people.  The guilty somehow always managed to escape.”    Fresh tears slipped from his lowered eyes and slid down his ancient cheeks.

“So I withdrew.  I kept myself alone in the world.  I didn’t want to form friendships, didn’t allow myself to become attached to anyone, let alone fall in love.  I began to indulge in things that had once been forbidden to me, things that I had never even considered participating in before.  Drinking, drugs, sex, all manner of earthly pleasures—pure hedonism, truth be told.  By the time the Library found me, I was something of a mess, I’m afraid.”  He smiled grimly at the memory before continuing.

“I was vulnerable, desperate.”  Jenkins waved at the TV screen again.  “Just like Mr. Gillis.  The Library offered me a home, a place to belong.  It offered me a purpose for my life, a direction—a _noble_ purpose at that:  Helping to protect the world from the wild, untamed magic that had helped to destroy Camelot and my loved ones.  Protect the world from magic that it couldn’t begin to understand, let alone control or use wisely.  I was happy to take the Library up on its offer, relieved even.  Perhaps I should’ve been a little more wary.”  He fell silent.  Eve didn’t say anything, merely watched the old Caretaker’s face and eyes for any cues.  Eve couldn’t quite place the vibe she was picking up from him.

“Back then I felt relief and gratitude towards the Library.  Right now I’m feeling…hurt.  Angry.  Betrayed.”  His voice became brittle and his expression hard as Jenkins went on.

“I have served the Library for over a millennium, Colonel Baird.  I’ve made sacrifices for it, given up a great deal for it.  I trusted it.  I believed in the things I thought it believed in, defended it, fought for it.  Even after all of the conflicts with Judson that eventually brought me here to the Annex, I still thought I was fulfilling an honorable purpose.  I still thought that I was ultimately serving all of humanity by serving the Library.  But now…”  The old knight’s eyes turned cold and dull.

“When you all came to the Library four years ago, I was not happy about it, as you well know.  I was used to being alone, used to having the Library all to myself for the most part.  I was content, if not actually ‘happy’, as the world defines that word.  But then you lot showed up, turned my life upside-down.  You impudently offered me your friendship, your support, your love.  Cassandra…”  He smiled shyly at the name and his eyes glowed with happiness for a moment.  Eve felt her heart skip a beat at the sight, but his happiness soon disappeared.

“The Library turned on me,” he spat bitterly.  “All those centuries of service meant nothing to it.  It completely betrayed my trust.  It _used_ me to do unspeakable things to those I’ve come to love, who I consider to be family now.  Especially Cassandra.”  He paused to control the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.

“I never dared to dream that I would ever find someone like Cassandra.  I never dared to dream that I could build a life with someone like her, never dared to dream that I could be so genuinely, perfectly happy.  I’ve never loved anyone so deeply; I’ve never _been_ loved by anyone so deeply.”  He shook his head and refocused his attention back onto the Library.

“And when it was finished with me…”  Jenkins waved at the ceiling and fell silent.  He turned and pointed with his chin toward the screen.

“The Library shot me in the back, so to speak, just as I was finally beginning to break away from it, to create a life of my own, to actually be happy.  Like Norma Desmond did to Mr. Gillis.  As though it was a case of ‘If I can’t have Jenkins, then no one else can have him either!’”  Jenkins didn’t speak again for a long time, and Eve remained quiet.  She was familiar enough with his personality to know that he was still working out how best to express what he was thinking.  When he was ready, he looked over at the Guardian.

“I’m also afraid of the Library now, Colonel,” he admitted somberly, fear actually staining his voice.  “If it could do those things so easily in that other timeline—cause such suffering and torture its own Librarians so cruelly, if it can kill someone so hatefully, so vindictively, after so many years of loyalty—how do I know it won’t do the same thing in _this_ timeline, given the right conditions?  How do I know it won’t turn on me again, kill me again?  Or worse yet, kill one of you?  Or…Cassandra?”  He shifted his position on the sofa agitatedly at the thought.

“I must confess, Colonel, that I’m seriously considering whether I should remain here.”  Eve stared at him, thunderstruck.

“Jenkins!  What do you mean?” she demanded.  “You’re thinking of leaving the Library?  Actually _leaving_ the Library?”  He gave her a small nod, and she turned her body to face him squarely.  “You’re joking, right?”

“I’m very serious, Colonel,” he responded.  “If it was just me, that would be one thing, but I don’t want Cassandra here if the Library can’t be trusted.  If anything should happen to her…”  He couldn’t finish the sentence.  Eve’s shocked stare turned into a glare of accusation.

“Have you talked to Cassandra about this?” she asked.  Jenkins shook his head.

“Not yet.”

“Don’t you think that maybe you _should_?” she demanded, the words coming out more harshly than she meant for them to.  “You can’t just make a decision like that without her input, Jenkins.  You know that!”  He held up his hands and nodded in agreement.

“Yes, I _do_ know that, Colonel, and I am going to talk to her about it.  I just thought that I would mention it to you first, since we’re here right now, talking about the Library.  Just to get your opinion,” he hurried to say.  Eve relaxed a bit and regarded the Caretaker for a moment.

“Then my opinion is that you need to stop and think for a minute, Jenkins,” she urged.  “I understand that you want to protect Cassandra and keep her safe.  Seriously, I’m a Guardian, I get that completely.”  She laid a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t mean to sound harsh when I say this, Jenkins, but...what would the two of you do, out there, in the ‘real’ world?  How would you live?  You’ve known nothing but the Library for centuries; hell, just a trip to the grocery store freaked you out in the other timeline!  How on earth would you find a job?  Find a place to live?  Pay bills?  Handle all of the little piddly-ass day to day stuff that the rest of us take for granted?  And what would Cassandra do?  She doesn’t even have a high school diploma.  Who’s going to hire her for anything above minimum wage?”  Jenkins stared back her, almost angrily.

“If it’s financial stability that concerns you, Colonel Baird, there’s no need for you to worry,” he said coldly.  “I am not without means.  I’ve managed to squirrel away quite a decent nest egg over the centuries.  Cassandra wouldn’t be living in poverty or squalor.”

“Even so,” Eve countered gently with a sigh.  “You can’t compare the Library in _this_ timeline to the one in the other timeline.  That’s what Nicole wanted—to sow distrust of the Library among us.  _That_ Library wasn’t tethered to humanity anymore.  It reverted to what it originally was, that self-centered, mercenary, psychotically possessive _thing_.  THAT Library was Norma Desmond.  THIS Library,” Eve waved her arms to take in the Annex.  “This Library isn’t.  It’s tethered to humanity, it’s whole, it’s _sane_.  It’s the same Library that took you in all those years ago.  This Library _loves_ you, Jenkins.  It loves you and it cares about you.  It loves and cares about Cassandra.  It brought the two of you together, remember?  And it’s not going to hurt either of you.  At least, not while I’M the Guardian!”  She took the immortal’s hand in between both of hers, shaking it playfully and smiling at the forlorn-looking immortal.

“You’re _not_ Joe Gillis, and you’re certainly _not_ poor Max the mindless, slavish butler.  You’re _Jenkins_ , aka Sir Galahad, you’re the Library’s Caretaker, Cassandra’s husband.  And you’re _my_ friend.”  She leaned over and gave his cheek a soft kiss.

“And one soldier to another, one _friend_ to another—I’m _always_ gonna have your back, Jenkins, you and Cassandra.  _Always._  I promise.”  The Caretaker dropped his head and fidgeted uncomfortably at the Guardian’s words, not saying anything for several long seconds.  He then took a deep breath and raised his gaze to hers again.  Eve could see his chocolate-brown eyes shining with new tears.

“Thank you,” he said simply, patting her hand with his.  She thought that was it, that that was all the taciturn Caretaker was going to say.  She smiled and began to pull her hands away and turn back to the television screen.  But suddenly Jenkins grasped both her hands tightly and pulled her to himself.  He threw both of his arms around the startled woman’s shoulders and hugged her fiercely.  Eve was astonished at his strength, and wondered briefly how someone as small and slight in build as Cassandra hadn’t been crushed by now.

“Thank you, Eve,” he said again, emotion roughening his voice slightly.  “For your kindness, for your wisdom.  For everything.  But most of all, thank you for being my friend.”

Eve relaxed against the large man and hugged him back, yet again struggling to blink back tears.  “Any time, Skippy,” she said earnestly and gave his cheek another quick peck.  This time when Jenkins offered her his handkerchief, she accepted it gratefully.

“Wow!  Two hugs from Jenkins in one day!  That must some kind of a record,” she laughed as she dabbed her eyes.  “Shall we finish the movie?  Now that our root beers are warm and our chex mix is cold?”  Jenkins chuckled and straightened his suit coat as he resettled himself on the sofa.  He leaned forward to pick up the bowl of chex mix and replace it between the two friends.

“Absolutely,” he rumbled amiably.  “What’s a little warm root beer between friends, after all?”  He suddenly froze in place and gave the blonde woman a mischievous look.  “In fact, Colonel, I’m given to understand that warm root beer makes for some rather impressive belches, if one were interested in exploring such a thing...”  An equally mischievous smile slowly spread across Baird’s face.  She quickly dug into her pants pocket and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill.  She slapped the money onto the surface of the coffee table.

“I’ve got twenty bucks that says I can burp louder and longer than you!” she challenged.  The immortal raised his chin defiantly as he eagerly fished a twenty out of his waistcoat pocket and slapped it on top of Eve’s bill.

“Done!” he accepted.

The two friends immediately grabbed their nearly-full bottles of tepid root beer and began chugging down the contents as quickly as they could.  A few seconds after emptying her bottle, Eve closed her eyes and let loose a loud, deep-timbered belch that came straight from the diaphragm and lasted two full seconds.  When she was finished she grinned and cast a triumphant look toward the old knight.  Almost immediately Jenkins took a deep breath and laid a large hand on his chest as he tucked his chin in, then loosed a long, thundering belch that Eve, now wide-eyed in amazement, swore had to have hurt.  The Caretaker raised his head proudly.

Baird pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes as she regarded the smug man.

“Double or nothing!” she barked, hurriedly plunging her hand into her pocket again.

“Done!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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